


tracklist

by spacefleeting



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Deaf Clint Barton, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Mamma Mia! References, bucky's eldery russian neighbors, not so much enemies as 'they mutually annoy the shit out of each other'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 17:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacefleeting/pseuds/spacefleeting
Summary: "Bucky is pretty sure this much close contact with Hawkeye can't be good for his health in the long term, but like any bad habit, the immediate benefits are too good for him to give it up quite yet."Or: Bucky keeps teaming up with Clint solely out of convenience, but somewhere in between fishing him out of dumpsters, mini-roadtrips, and being forced to listen to ABBA on repeat, he finds himself actually starting to like the man.  And it's horrifying.





	tracklist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky doesn't like Hawkeye, but he does like his skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i read tales of suspense and i'm obsessed with these massive idiots and their dynamic

"Oh fuck oh shit oh god oh fuck," Barton is panting as they sprint up the last flight of stairs in the building and all but slam into the locked roof door. He's been repeating some variation on that theme ever since they'd been spotted on the third floor and run to the stairwell only to find a group of armed men already coming up towards them.

That'd been twelve floors ago. How he still has the breath to keep swearing, especially given the amount of blood he must be swallowing from the oozing gash across his mouth, Bucky has no idea, but he's entirely convinced Barton is doing it to spite him specifically.

"Shut _up_ ," Bucky tells him for the third time. He slams his fist into the door's hinges -- once, twice, the crash of metal on metal bouncing around the stairwell like thunder and drowning out the footsteps of the men racing up behind them. The door crumples under his hand and he kicks it the rest of the way in before grabbing Barton by the back of his t-shirt and hauling him out onto the roof. "We're fine, we've got this, everything is fine."

Barton shakes him off as they break into a run again. "Don't _manhandle_ me, Barnes. Also, fine? You call this fine? We're on a roof with no way down and a whole fuckin' bunch of real pissed off dudes who want to kill us maybe sixty seconds out. This is fine to you?"

"I..." Okay, when it's all laid out like that, maybe their current situation does look pretty bad. "I'm working on it." They skid to a stop at the edge of the roof and Bucky looks around wildly, searching for anything they could use to escape. There's another lower building maybe thirty or forty yards across from them, the roof a few floors lower than their current position. Bucky can see a fire escape on the other side.

He does the mental math. With that angle, he could make the jump. Maybe. Probably. But Barton definitely couldn't. And no matter how much he's threatened to in the past, Bucky couldn't actually leave him behind in good conscience.

Maybe he could throw him.

"Oh my god, do I have to do everything myself?" Bucky whips around tell Barton exactly what he thinks about the things Barton does for himself, but the words die in his mouth when he sees which arrow Barton has pulled from his quiver.

"No," he says.

Barton rolls his eyes. "Don't be a bitch, Barnes. Grab on."

"Absolutely the fuck not."

"You got a better plan?"

' _No_ ,' Bucky thinks, but there's no way in hell he's going to cling to Barton like the love interest in some shitty action movie while he rappels them down the side of the building with his grappling hook arrow.

He opens his mouth to tell Barton as much, but suddenly there's a whole lot more footsteps and shouting, and they whirl around to see a small horde of armed goons pouring out onto the roof.

Bucky locks eyes with Barton, who just raises an eyebrow, looking entirely unbothered.

"Actually, fuck it, let's bounce," Bucky says, and there are shots ringing out but it doesn't matter because Barton is firing the arrow into the roof at their feet and Bucky is grabbing him tight around the chest.

And then they jump.

 

* * *

 

The problem is this: Hawkeye is so goddamn annoying.

Bucky doesn't hate him. He _doesn't_ , as much as he feels like it whenever he has to spend more than five minutes in the guy's presence. He just finds everything about him to be almost entirely intolerable. He's loud. Impatient. Talks too much. Never takes anything as seriously. Wastes all his skills and potential running around fighting petty criminals and trying to find people who don't want to be found instead of actually making a difference. Always kind of smells like dog food.

Okay, so maybe Bucky _does_ hate him.

But he only hates him a little bit, because despite being the most annoying man on earth, Clint Barton is also surprisingly dependable and incredibly, _incredibly_ good at what he does. And even if it takes a few years off his life every time, Bucky can still tolerate being in his presence if he needs to, which is more that can be said about most of the people he hates. Good allies are hard to come by these, ones who are almost always available -- and willing -- to help even more so, so he'll take what he can get.

It's become almost a routine with them: every so often Bucky will show up outside Barton's shitty apartment building and loiter around looking ominous until either Barton gets back from whatever stupid errand he was running or one of the tenants goes and gets him from his apartment. Then Bucky will wait while Barton goes _back_ up to his apartment to get his bow, because he never seems to carry it on him despite it being retractable, because the man is never prepared for anything. And then Barton will yell "Shotgun!" even though they're the only two people getting into the car, and Bucky will tell him to shut the fuck up, and then he'll drag Barton along on whatever mission he's on this week.

Today, Barton had snatched the aux cord in lieu of buckling his seatbelt, and had the _Mamma Mia_ soundtrack blasting on full volume before Bucky had even put the car in drive. Bucky had to close his eyes and take a moment to breathe deeply and count to five before he trusted himself to pull away from the curb. He has nothing against ABBA, or Meryl Streep, but they've listened to nothing but this album the last four times they've worked together, and at this point he's pretty sure that if he has to hear Barton belt along to the Voulez-Vous chorus one more time he's going run the car off the road and take them both out.

But he'd thought that the last four times too, and he still hadn't. Because really, the problem is this: Bucky is pretty sure this much close contact with Hawkeye can't be good for his health in the long term, but like any bad habit, the immediate benefits are too good for him to give it up quite yet.

 

* * *

  

"Hey," Barton says once they're safely speeding down the highway, the hills of Upstate New York flashing by in the murky pre-dawn light as they make their way back towards the city. Towards home. Bucky's still not used to thinking of New York like that, but he's getting there.

Barton's driving, for once. Bucky would normally never let him behind the wheel of his car, but he'd gotten slashed in the right leg as they'd fought their way out of the compound and couldn't press on the gas without cursing, and it had been easier to just let Barton take the wheel than put up with his nagging the entire way back. "How come I don't have your address?" The words come out slightly blubbery due to his split lip. The bleeding has finally stopped, but it's swollen to an almost comical size.

Bucky stares at the side of his face and wonders if the question is a trick. "Why would you need my address?"

Barton casts a quick glance at Bucky that, despite its brevity, still manages to convey exactly how stupid he thinks that question. It's a pretty high level of stupid. "You have mine, dude. You show up all the time and scare the shit out of my neighbors with your freakin' death glower just 'cause you have a problem. You ever think about smiling? Maybe replying when people ask how's it going? Or wearing something other than black leather? Not that you don't look good in it, but--"

"Barton," Bucky interrupts. "The point."

"Ugh. The _point_ is, what if _I_ ever have a problem?"

Bucky considers it for the a moment, then decides he cannot imagine a torture greater than Clint Barton having the ability to show up at his door whenever he wants, to beg for his help with whatever nonsense he might consider a problem. "Then you go to someone else."

Barton makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat. "Aw, c'mon, man, that's just not fair."

"Life's not fair, Barton."

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Bucky answers a series of frantic knocks on his apartment door to find Barton standing there with a black eye and only one shoe on. It's the most unpleasant way imaginable to remember that the human disaster standing in his hallway is actually, somehow, a real Avenger. Bucky's not an idiot. He knows the Avengers definitely have his address in some sort of database so they can monitor him or contact him when they decide they need his help, the same way they do with any non-Avengers-affiliated person with powers they can track down. He just hadn't ever fully made the connection that Barton could access that database whenever he wanted.

(It's either that, or he actually just found Bucky's address by himself, which would be infinitely worse because it would mean he could track him without Bucky noticing, so Bucky chooses to believe the former for his own sanity.)

Barton at the very least has the decency to look embarrassed about his current predicament. "Hey, uh--"

Bucky cuts him off. "Is your life in danger?"

"Well, not my life, but--"

"Any civilian lives?"

"Well, also no, _but_ \--"

"Then goodbye."

Bucky slams his door in Barton's face.

 

* * *

  

The next morning, Bucky wakes up to find a note taped to the outside of his window. Not the window above the fire escape. His bedroom window. He has no idea how Barton got the note there -- there's no nearby low roof Barton could have used to reach it, or even a storm drain he could have scaled. And Bucky lives on the fourth floor.

It was probably the goddamn grappling hook arrow again. Someday Bucky is going to break all of those.

The handwriting is surprisingly neat. Bucky would have guessed Barton's writing would be almost illegible.

 

_'Hey asshole!_

_Four very angry men with a lot guns tried to kill you in your own home yesterday. Long story how I found this out, don't worry about it. Point is, I took care of those guys (WITH NO HELP FROM YOU!!!!) so you're ok for now. Possibly more on the way but I'm working on it. Could use your help but ONLY if you're done being a massive jerk and are back to being a regular jerk. And by "could use your help" I mean you owe me so get your scary leather-clad ass down to my place pronto <3 _

_BTW -- Mrs. Strelnikova across the hall is VERY NICE. She gave me soup and tea and a shoe after you locked me out. She somehow thinks you're a nice young man and I did not ruin this image for her so you're welcome. She says she wishes you visited more. She worries you don't eat enough._

_James Buchanan Barnes. You live across the hall. If you don't visit this sweet old babushka more often and stop making her sad I WILL kick your ass._

_But visit her after you visit me and help me stop people from trying to kill you._

_See you soon._

_XOXO, Hawkeye'_

 

There's a little drawing of a bow and arrow next to signature. It would be cute if it were anyone else, but because it's Barton, it's just obnoxious.

Bucky draws up a quick mental to-do list. First, he has to go to Barton's place. As much as it pains him to do anything the man tells him to do, an organization that knows where he lives and is willing to send four people to take him out needs to be dealt with, quickly and completely. He trusts that Barton could handle it on his own, but it would go faster with the two of them. Also, he unfortunately _does_ owe Barton.

Then, he has to buy a fresh batch of pryaniki from the Russian deli on the corner and go over to Mrs. Strelnikova's for tea.

And then he has to consider investing in some pigeon spikes for his windowsill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if you were one of the like 10 people who read this before i deleted and reuploaded it fdkgndklfg i had some edits to make. i'll try to keep the updates semi-consistent although this is mostly just something i'm working on for stress-relief in between my other fics. as always, thank you so much for reading and i'd love to know what you think!!! <3


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